


sense of purpose, sense of skill

by spectrespecs



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cooking, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, M/M, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu, Phone Sex, Post-Time Skip, but it's more, friends with benefits to lovers who were lovers the entire time, sakusa's got a crisis, they are in love your honor, ushijima's got jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29609769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectrespecs/pseuds/spectrespecs
Summary: What pairs better with a love confession than a home-cooked meal?Or, Sakusa takes cooking lessons from Osamu to try and woo Ushijima.
Relationships: Sakusa Kiyoomi/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 24
Kudos: 77





	sense of purpose, sense of skill

**Author's Note:**

> today, I bring my agenda of cooking as a love language to ushisaku. 
> 
> as always, my life is owed to jade.
> 
> title loosely taken from [the pioneers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JrpMIkaP2ss&ab_channel=BlocParty-Topic) by bloc party.

“I’m going to do it,” Sakusa announces as soon as Komori’s face appears on his phone when the video call connects. 

His cousin’s eyebrows shoot up comically, concern taking over his face. “What?”

“I’m going to confess to Wakatoshi-kun,” Sakusa informs him of the incredibly important decision he made mere minutes before calling Komori.

Much to Sakusa’s surprise, Komori deflates at the revelation. “Oh,” he lets a deep breath out. “Here I was thinking it was something serious with you calling me this late on a weeknight and not even bothering to give a greeting before dramatically telling me you were going to do something.”

“This is serious,” Sakusa scoffs, offended that his cousin would brush off such a significant matter. Sakusa was going to confess. To Ushijima Wakatoshi. This is supposed to be Earth-shattering. 

“You’re already together, though?” Komori raises an eyebrow and leaning closer to the screen, being the insufferable asshole that he is, egging Sakusa on. 

“You know we aren’t,” Sakusa grumbles. 

“Ah, that’s right, you’re just fucking,” Komori’s smile holds not a hint of kindness and feels like a taunting knife. 

“Shut up,” Sakusa pitifully throws back.

Tragically, Komori is not wrong. Somewhere during the time both Sakusa and Ushijima lived in Tokyo while Sakusa attended university and Ushijima started playing with Schweiden, their friendship had evolved from close friends to close friends with benefits. It was a lateral move. Not quite what Sakusa had been hoping for, but it sufficed as he frankly didn’t think he had the mental capacity to take on a relationship at the same time as exams and volleyball games with his university team. Somewhere along the way, Sakusa managed to miss the part where he was going to ask Ushijima to promote themselves to boyfriends before he moved to Osaka after joining MSBY. Their friends with benefits situation continued but now featuring 100% more explicit phone calls and long train rides to see each other. 

But after a particularly wonderful call with Ushijima following practice earlier where the other man had made Sakusa both laugh with a snort he would loathe anyone else to hear over a joke made at Komori’s expense (his cousin does not need to know this) and moan Ushijima’s name, again and again, as he came into his hand, wishing the weight of the other man was pressing him down into the bed, well, Sakusa realized he simply couldn’t go on without Ushijima knowing how much he loved him. 

“So, what are you going to do? How’re you going to confess?” Komori finally stops being a pest and asks something useful. 

“I don’t know,” Sakusa whines in a way he will never admit is just on this side of childish. “I’ve never confessed to anyone before.”

“I know,” Komori replies with a solemn nod. “You’ve only ever had eyes on Ushijima-san.”

“I called you to help me, be helpful!” Sakusa wishes that Komori was in front of him so he could flick his forehead as he used to when they were children and he was frustrated with his cousin. 

“You’re not giving me a lot to work with here!” Komori yells back, and Sakusa supposes that’s somewhat fair. “When are you seeing him next? And I mean in person, not one of your spicy video chats.”

“Don’t call them that, and he’s coming down to visit me in Osaka next month,” Sakusa crosses the arm not holding up his phone and frowns. 

Komori starts to rub his chin between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, exaggerating his show of contemplation by scrunching his face and uttering  _ hmm _ over and over in various volumes. Sakusa hates him, and he’s sure they cannot be related. Just when Sakusa thinks he’ll hang up, Komori’s hand leaves his face and he snaps his fingers. “I’ve got it.”

“What?” Sakusa leans forward, a little eager and hopeful. 

“Ushijima-san is a fairly simple and straightforward man, and I think doing something like that should work on him. A grand gesture but Ushijima style,” Komori explains. “How about cooking for him?”

“Cooking?” Sakusa shakes his head. “I’m a terrible cook, there’s no way.”

“Yes, there is, Kiyoomi,” Komori’s evil grin has returned, taunting. “Are you not teammates with someone whose twin brother owns one of the most popular restaurants in the city with talks of expanding to a Tokyo location?”

Sakusa shakes his head. “No, I would need to ask Atsumu for a favor. No way. Out of the question. Absolutely never.”

“Come on, Kiyoomi,” Komori urges him on. “Think about it. Ushijima arrives on your doorstep after a two-and-a-half-hour-long train ride from Tokyo. What would sound better to him than stepping into your apartment with the smell of a home-cooked meal and your open arms waiting for him? You tell him your feelings, he accepts them because, let’s be real, he loves you, don’t argue with me on this, and then you can eat and bang. Or bang and eat. Either or, up to you. Probably the latter if I know you.”

“I’m not going to even address part of what you said, but…” Sakusa drifts off, and he can picture it so clearly. An elaborate array of foods set out on the dinner table. Ushijima’s face of surprise at seeing how Sakusa did all this just for him. There’s something decidedly appealing about the idea and how it involves Sakusa preparing something with his own two hands. 

“You’re thinking about it,” Komori says, not even hiding the smugness in his voice. 

“No, I’m not,” Sakusa lies. 

“Liar,” Komori openly laughs. “Well, I think that’s enough of this conversation. Let me know when you have your first meeting with Osamu-san.” Komori doesn’t even dignify Sakusa with a farewell before disconnecting the call. 

When Sakusa finally goes to bed that night he dreams of burnt grilled fish and Komori’s laughter.

\---

Sakusa absolutely refuses to go to the Miyas for any help, but after a week of lost opportunity in which he attempts to make hayashi rice—Ushijima’s favorite—every day after practice that ends with a questionably edible version of the dish in the trash, he decides that maybe desperate times do indeed call for desperate measures. And he has to be desperate to be doing this. 

“Atsumu-san,” Sakusa addresses his teammate after practice and immediately feels regret drip down his spine. 

Atsumu raises an eyebrow at him. “I told ya, Omi-kun, just call me Atsumu. What’s up?”

“Atsumu, does, um, does your brother know how to make, let’s say, hayashi rice, and would he—uh—be able to teach someone?” Sakusa mumbles the words partially into his mask and lets his eyes travel around the locker room, looking anywhere but his surely smug teammate. 

“Is this for Ushiwaka?” Atsumu asks without preamble, and when Sakusa does land his eyes back on the setter, he’s got that grin on his face usually saved for flashing before particularly cutting plays on the court. 

“No, why, what makes you say that?” Sakusa crosses his arms and scoffs. 

“Because I, too, read that Volleyball Monthly profile on him where he said it was his favorite food,” Atsumu’s insufferable smugness remains. 

Sakusa narrows his eyes at the other man. “That was a high school profile, why do you remember that?”

“‘Cause I was obsessed with him in high school, he was such a cool player,” Atsumu admits, which further makes him suspicious to Sakusa. 

“Did you have a crush on him?” Sakusa accuses more than asks. 

“Did  _ you?” _ Atsumu laughs. “Don’t answer that, I know it’s yes.” Atsumu then raises his hand and wiggles the fingers so the band sitting snug on his ring finger catches the fluorescent light. “And don’t worry, Shin’s the only one for me.”

Sakusa has met Kita Shinsuke multiple times. He seems like a very sensible man minus the fact he has chosen to spend his life with Miya Atsumu. 

“Whatever,” Sakusa brushes off his teammate. “I need to ask you for a favor.” He grits the words out between his teeth. 

“This was an awfully weird way to ask for a favor,” Atsumu comments. 

Sakusa chooses to ignore him. “Would your brother be willing to help teach me how to cook a few dishes? I know he’s a busy man, but, well,” Sakusa falters and decides what the hell, maybe being vulnerable for two seconds will work in his favor. “I want to cook for Wakatoshi-kun, but I am bad at it. I was hoping Osamu-san could help.”

“What’s in it for me?” Atsumu asks immediately, and Sakusa regrets all ideas that opening up briefly would help him. 

“I will be kind to you for a month and work on whatever plays you want for a month as well,” Sakusa offers. 

Atsumu gives a love whistle. “This must be somethin’ important then, huh. Are ya two celebratin’ an anniversary?”

“We aren’t in a relationship,” Sakusa snaps back. 

“Sure ya ain’t,” Atsumu snorts. “And the sky isn’t blue.”

“We aren’t. Yet,” Sakusa huffs. 

Atsumu simply nods. “Got it, well, okay. I’ll put in a word with ‘Samu and see what he says.”

Sakusa breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Atsumu.”

That dumb conniving smirk of his appears back on the setter’s face. “Thank me tomorrow when I have ya runnin’ plays with me.”

Sakusa should have just decided to order takeout. 

\---

The process of calling Ushijima became an automatic motion for Sakusa. Sometimes he simply picks up his phone and swipes through it until it’s ringing and then connects to Ushijima. 

“Hello, Kiyoomi-kun,” Ushijima greets him, voice slightly rough. 

“Hi, Wakatoshi-kun, did I wake you?” 

“No, I just got out of the shower,” Ushijima tells him. Sakusa collapses back onto his bed with the information. Fresh from the shower Ushijima is a sight that Sakusa has had the honor of seeing numerous times. The way stray drops of water slide down Ushijima’s smooth skin, dipping between the divots of his body created by carved muscle, always leaves Sakusa wanting to get on his knees and follow those paths with his tongue. 

“Wish I was there with you,” Sakusa sighs, wistfully. 

Ushijima hums. “I’ll be in Osaka in a few weeks.”

“But I want you now,” Sakusa complains. 

“You can have me now,” Ushijima’s voice drops low and warm like Sakusa can feel the steam from the shower curling around him all the way down in Osaka from Ushijima’s Tokyo apartment. “How do you want me?”

Sakusa grips the sheets of his bed with his free hand as he replies. “Inside me.”

Ushijima groans over the phone. “Let me see what you’d do if I was there.”

“If you were here, I’d make sure you were fucking me.”

“Show me how you’d get yourself ready. I want to watch.”

The sound of a request to switch to a video call comes in immediately, and Sakusa almost drops the phone in his haste to accept it. After a few seconds, the call connects, and Sakusa is greeted by the sight of Ushijima with slightly damp hair, shoulders bare following his shower, and a single drop of water resting in the space of his left collarbone. God, Sakusa wants to lick it off. 

“Hey,” Sakusa attempts to employ an air of nonchalance when in reality he’s screaming inside at how good Ushijima looks. 

"Kiyoomi," Ushijima says his name in that deep tone that he gets when not speaking for a while. His voice is naturally low, but the ways he manages to pitch it lower absolutely obliterate Sakusa. 

Sakusa watches as Ushijima lies back in his own bed, the crisp white of his pillowcases crinkling with the pressure of Ushijima leaning on them. Sakusa knows they smell like Ushijima even after a wash, and he's had his share of mornings waking up in that bed and pressing his nose into the fabric to just catch a hint of it before turning to the other man. 

"Was it a good shower?" Sakusa asks and starts to glide his hand over his body, purposely avoiding the areas that are most sensitive. He tugs at the bottom of his shirt, gently pulling up the fabric with it to reveal the skin beneath. Ushijima's eyes through the screen slide down to watch as Sakusa puts himself on display, and much to Sakusa's delight, the other man bites back a groan. 

"It was normal."

"Did you wish I was there?"

"Yes," and this time Ushijima doesn't hold back the groan. The sound makes Sakusa visibly shiver. "Fuck."

Ushijima swearing makes Sakusa arch slightly, wishing he had been there for Ushijima's shower so he could hear the rare profanity muttered into the space between his neck and shoulder as Ushijima ran hands over his body. 

"And what would you do if I was there?" Sakusa licks his lips as he asks the question. He completely throws how the conversation started out the window. He just wants to get off now, and he'll steer this in the direction he wants. Ushijima won't mind.

"I want to make you feel good. I want to get my mouth on you," Ushijima's voice dips lower. "I want to mark you up where only I get to see."

"What makes you think you're the only one who gets to see?" Sakusa asks with a quirked eyebrow.

"I know,” Ushijima replies with no room for question.

And it's true. Sakusa always is the first in and out of the showers at practice and after games. None of his teammates see him bare, and he has never had another partner besides Ushijima. And, frankly, he doesn't ever want anyone other than Ushijima. 

"You're right," Sakusa tells him. "Just you."

"Let me see you," Ushijima demands. 

"You are," Sakusa teases and dips one finger just below the waistband of his sweatpants. 

"All of you," Ushijima growls. 

Sakusa doesn't reply, he just sits up to set the phone at an angle where Ushijima can watch Sakusa strip so he's bare from the waist down but keeps the shirt on, wondering if Ushijima will finally realize what it is.

"Is that my shirt?" he asks. 

"Yes," Sakusa grins as he settles back down and lets Ushijima see he's already hard for him. "Almost feels like you're here," Sakusa turns his head to the side so he can press his face against part of the shirt. 

"Kiyoomi," Ushijima says Sakusa's name to turn attention back to him, and Sakusa simply hums in response. "Touch yourself like you'd want me to. Please."

The words make Sakusa moan, and he immediately obliges, letting his hands finally wander over the parts of his body he was denying himself. His chest gets thoroughly caressed and pinched until he's crying out. Once he's panting, Sakusa drifts lower to finally take himself in hand and starts to slowly stroke. 

"This, I want you doing this," Sakusa looks into the camera, attempting to convey just how much he wants the other man as much as is possible through the phone. 

"Keep going for me," Ushijima instructs. Sakusa realizes he isn't even touching himself as well but just watching Sakusa with full attention and hungry eyes. Sometimes this is enough for Sakusa. It's enough to see and hear Ushijima get off through the phone, but sometimes it's frustratingly not enough. He wants to feel the other man, wants to be pressed into the sheets and covered in both the weight of Ushijima's body and affections until it feels like every breath from Sakusa's lungs only exists because of Ushijima. They've barely done anything so far on this call, but Sakusa teeters on the edge of falling into that desperation.

Instead, Sakusa simply whines Ushijima's name. Uttering  _ Wakatoshi _ over and over as Ushijima murmurs encouragement to him through the phone's speaker. Words telling him to move faster, to twist at the end, and also making sure that Sakusa knows just how damn  _ pretty _ he looks, flushing the shade of the pink sunset over the Tokyo skyline that time they booked a hotel room in a fancy downtown high-rise for a night just so they could fuck somewhere new. 

Sakusa has to take a few moments to steady himself after he comes, and through the pounding in his ears of his racing heart, he hears the sounds through of Ushijima finally working over himself as well. When he opens his eyes, Sakusa sees all of Ushijima gloriously bare as his wide hand grips himself tight and he thrusts into it, breath catching in tiny gasps that sound like  _ Kiyoomi _ until he also comes. 

They both collapse down onto their respective beds, 500 kilometers apart. Sakusa allows half of his face to smush into his pillow as Ushijima lies down in the same way. Both of them are looking at each other through a phone camera with their heads on the pillow of their beds. It’s almost as if they’re looking at each other in the same bed. Almost. Sakusa would believe it if he hadn’t experienced it for himself so many times over the years. 

“What are you thinking about?” Sakusa asks. 

“How I was supposed to get to watch you open yourself up for me, but you seemed to not want that,” Ushijima smiles, and that half-dimple on the left side of his face that makes Sakusa’s stomach swoop makes an appearance. “And that I’m looking forward to seeing you soon.”

“Sorry, next time,” Sakusa apologizes sheepishly. “And me, too,” Sakusa whispers. “It’ll be nice to have you here.” He pats the space next to him for emphasis. 

“Just in bed?” Ushijima comments, and now they’re skating that terrifying place of coming a hair's width away from openly admitting that their friendly fucking is not just friendly anymore and scary things like  _ feelings _ have been part of it from perhaps the first moment they kissed. 

“And cooking,” Sakusa adds without thought. 

“I’ve told you, you just need to practice and you’ll be better at cooking. Don’t give up,” Ushijima tells him. “I can offer some books that provide adequate guidance.”

“No, thanks, Wakatoshi-kun,” Sakusa shakes his head. “I’m good.” Sakusa lies easily because technically he does not start his cooking lessons for another few days. 

The conversation ends up turning to Sakusa complaining about something appalling he saw a teammate do that does not pass his vibe check for appropriate sanitation, and Ushijima shares the latest escapades he’s gotten up to with Kageyama and Hoshiumi in Tokyo. It’s rather endearing to Sakusa how well the trio gets along, and he supposes he could be less hostile to Atsumu, Hinata, and Bokuto sometimes. They flit between topics until Sakusa’s eyes grow heavy and Ushijima whispers to him gently to start his night routine, and Sakusa reluctantly hangs up to the sound of Ushijima chuckling at him.

\---

Osamu Miya holds all the kindness between the twins, which is why Sakusa receives a text message from an unknown number one day. The message announces that Osamu is the person behind the contact and Atsumu told him that Sakusa wanted his help to learn how to cook. 

_ Miya Osamu: I can help ya out, but it’ll have to be late after I close up shop. _

_ Sakusa Kiyoomi: That’s fine, whatever works for you. Thank you. _

And that's how Sakusa finds himself in Onigiri Miya at 10pm on a Wednesday night. 

"So, what can ya cook?" Osamu asks him, arms crossed over his black Onigiri Miya shirt. He's examining Sakusa from under the brim of a black hat that also has the restaurant's logo. The Miyas really love their branding, Sakusa supposes.

"Simple things," Sakusa admits. "Enough to get by if I don't want to go to a konbini or get takeout."

"So like rice, eggs, soup, fish, I'm assumin'?" Osamu looks for more information.

"More or less," Sakusa nods. "Like I said, simple things."

"And ya wanna cook for Ushijima-san? Is it for an anniversary?" Osamu tilts his head slightly as he asks.

"Why does everyone think we're together?" Sakusa grumbles and mirrors Osamu's pose by crossing his arms. 

"Because, uh, well, no offense, it just always seems like you are?" Osamu admits. 

"Well, we aren't. Not really. Yet," Sakusa huffs. 

"Got it," Osamu unfolds his arms and raises his hands in apology. "I won't pry, I'll just help ya learn how to cook. So, to start, then, what do you want to make for him?"

"He likes hayashi rice," Sakusa tells the chef. 

Osamu nods and starts moving around the kitchen. "That's easy enough, here, let me show you what you'll need for that. Take notes."

And Sakusa does. He pulls out his phone and opens the notes app to jot down the ingredients Osamu tells him he'll need—beef, flour, sake, oil, onions, mushrooms, and tomatoes—and what prep before cooking he'll need to go through with them. Osamu even trusts Sakusa enough with one of the larger knives to cut up the meat and some of the vegetables. While Osamu's chopped vegetables are much neater than Sakusa's, he's still pleased with the process of getting the slightly more rustic-looking pieces. Sakusa even gets to learn what a roux is, which is something he knew about as a vague concept, but now he knows how to actually make one. 

Sakusa uses his hand for a living, hitting and tossing volleyballs across a court, so he’s not used to using them in delicate matters to make something, really. He’s held an indifference to cooking for the most part, seeing it as a necessity more than anything else, but as Osamu demonstrates each step and then moves aside for Sakusa to try his hand at it, well, Sakusa finds himself enjoying it. He finds himself understanding the appeal of the process that goes into cooking something for himself. 

Miraculously, about 30 minutes later, Sakusa does not accidentally set anything on fire in the Onigiri Miya kitchen, and it looks like he honest to god made hayashi rice that smells wonderful. Of course, Osamu was there to help and guide the process along.

"Wow," Sakusa marvels at the pot and then looks over at Osamu, who has a wide grin on his face that crinkles the edges of his eyes. 

"I know," he nods. "It's a good feelin' to cook somethin' like this with yer own two hands."

And when they taste the food, it tastes like hayashi rice, too. This moment is almost as thrilling as winning a volleyball game—almost. 

"Not bad," Osamu compliments as he chews a spoonful of sauce and rice. "I think you can do this at home for sure."

"I think so, too," Sakusa admits, and this truly was a boost to his confidence. "Can you teach me a few other things as well?"

"Sure," Osamu agrees immediately. "What else d'ya wanna learn?"

Sakusa takes a moment to contemplate the question and uses the opportunity to eat more of the hayashi rice before finally finding a response. "What would you make for a romantic dinner?"

Osamu lets out a rough laugh, and Sakusa truly cannot believe he's going to another Miya to help him with advice on love, but he supposes if there's one time he should take a few leaps of faith, it'll be for telling Ushijima he loves him.

\---

Sometimes Sakusa and Ushijima have perfectly innocent calls with each other, and sometimes those calls happen while they go on their respective Saturday morning run. Sakusa once made the absolute mistake of telling Bokuto about this as they were packing up after a Friday practice and the other spiker asked about Sakusa's weekend plans. Bokuto gave him something akin to a pitying look, which had annoyed the hell out of Sakusa. 

"What?" Sakusa had snapped. 

"Friends don't do that," Bokuto commented solemnly.

"Friends go running together," Sakusa scoffed, annoyed that his friendship with Ushijima was being questioned by arguably one of the friendliest people on this planet. Not that Sakusa will ever admit that.

"Yeah, when you're together. But over the phone? That's...Omi-kun, are you and Ushiwaka-san dating?" Bokuto's expression cleared, the slow dawning of the possible nature of the relationship between Sakusa and Ushijima came to Bokuto like an epiphany. His mouth hung open in shock.

"No, as I said, we are friends," and with that Sakusa had stomped off.

He usually doesn't think about that exchange when tightening his shoes and popping his wireless earbuds in, but knowing that Bokuto had tragically been correct, well, almost correct, now drives Sakusa up the wall. So, yes, maybe it's a little over the top that they go running via phone together. So what?

Sakusa finishes his stretches on the front steps of the apartment building when the chimes go off in his ear of an incoming call, and he pulls out his phone to answer.

"Good morning," Sakusa greets Ushijima. 

"Good morning, Kiyoomi-kun," Ushijima replies. "Are you ready?" Ushijima says that phrase to Sakusa in so many contexts, therefore he is unfortunately conditioned to feel a brief pang of want down his spine hearing it from the other man.

"Yes, let's go," Sakusa gets his head back into the task at hand.

"Let's."

With that, they both take off, starting at a slower pace and slowly picking up speed—Sakusa winding through the streets of Higashiosaka while Ushijima does the same in Kodaira. They don't talk much, just taking in the company of the other's panting breaths and the sound of feet hitting the pavement. Sakusa remembers the first time they did this at Ushijima's recommendation when Sakusa admitted once that he was used to always running with a team, so being alone felt freeing but with something missing. He supposes there's a pleasant calmness to having someone running at your side. At first, it had felt silly, ridiculous to be on the phone like this while running, but then they would murmur brief commentary to each other about the sights they passed, and, well, Sakusa didn't mind it at all. So it became a tradition.

Halfway through the run, Ushijima ends up being the first one to speak. "There's a new onigiri restaurant," he comments. "I doubt it will be as good as Onigiri Miya."

Sakusa lets out a huff of a laugh. "It's surprisingly difficult to rival Osamu's onigiri."

"Have you been there lately?" Ushijima asks.

Why, yes, Sakusa has in fact been by just a few days ago to learn how to make hayashi rice and will be returning the following Wednesday to spend another evening with Miya Osamu teaching him to cook. But Ushijima is asking if Sakusa went there for onigiri, so it's not a lie to say no, he has not.

"We should go when I visit," Ushijima recommends, to which Sakusa grunts an affirmative noise. Great, he can just picture it now. That same smug look Atsumu gets but this time on Osamu as he watches Sakusa walk into his establishment with the man the onigiri restaurateur helped him learn to cook for. Just wonderful. "Is there anything else you want to do while I'm there?" Ushijima adds, breaking Sakusa out of his daydream of the future.

"I don't think so," Sakusa muses as he turns a sharp corner past a vegetable market. "Just spend time together, hang out, eat."

"That sounds very nice," Ushijima replies. 

"Yeah, it does," Sakusa sighs. And it does. He's always enjoyed Ushijima's company, whether it involves them sitting in silence together while reading, hitting a volleyball between them in a local park, or walking through a farmer's market while talking about an endless string of topics, Sakusa cherishes it all. And, well, it goes without being said that he also completely adores the more intimate moments they share as well.

They lapse back into their silent run, and Sakusa diverts his focus back onto maintaining his breathing almost in time with Ushijima's and the thump-thump of their feet on the ground as they twist and turn through their cities. 

Their routes are tried and true, tested over multiple weekends so they end up back at their apartment buildings near the same time. 

"Post-run stretches, now," Ushijima murmurs, to which Sakusa hums as his breathing returns to normal, standing with his hands on his hips while bending from side to side. Once the jog concludes, Ushijima talks them through their stretching routine that he's apparently discussed extensively with Iwaizumi to assure it's optimal for helping muscles rest. 

Sakusa allows Ushijima’s instructions to wash over him as he stretches and watches the neighborhood around him wake up.

\---

When the door to Osamu’s apartment opens the next time, it’s not the Miya on the other side. Akaashi Keiji is another completely reasonable and stable man who happens to be in love with a Miya twin. Sakusa has questions about how this has managed to happen not once but twice with Atsumu and Osamu, and it’s a damn shame that Kita and Akaashi were somehow corrupted. 

“Akaashi-san,” Sakusa greets the other man. They’ve crossed paths on occasion due to the former Fukurodani setter being Bokuto’s best friend and Atsumu’s brother’s boyfriend. 

“Sakusa-san, please come in,” Akaashi holds the door open so Sakusa can enter and remove his shoes. “Osamu told me you’re thinking of joining the Couples Who Rely on the Shinkansen Between Osaka and Tokyo Club?”

It takes a second for the implication to dawn on Sakusa. “Oh, well, I suppose so.” Akaashi works as a manga editor in Tokyo while Osamu remains in Osaka for now while he operates the main branch of Onigiri Miya. Rumor around states that a Tokyo branch is under development as an anniversary gift from Osamu to Akaashi. Sakusa finds that grossly romantic.

“I won’t lie and say it’s easy to be long-distance even though it’s a few hours away, but I think you and Ushijima-san will be able to do it,” Akaashi continues to comment as they make their way to the kitchen. “Honestly, I was under the impression you already were.”

“Why did you think that?” Sakusa frowns as he removes his mask and tucks it into a pocket. 

“I remember seeing the two of you together at Nationals my first year of high school. You were in your own little world it almost seemed. I even noticed then,” Akaashi admits, and the knowledge that someone who didn’t even know them could see so clearly how they were crushing on each other back then is a bit embarrassing to confront. “You both appear to have eyes just for the other when you’re in the same space if I’m being honest. I remember Bokuto-san’s last birthday party.”

“Oh,” Sakusa replies simply. The party at Onigiri Miya for Bokuto where Sakusa and Ushijima spent the entire time attached to each other’s side. "May I ask you both something?" Sakusa's apprehension at putting forth the question is outweighed by the desire to gain insight right now. 

The couple looks taken aback, clearly not thinking Sakusa would be so polite before posing a question, but Osamu shrugs, and Akaashi encourages him, "Please, go on."

"I know you both have been together for, well, a while, but how did it happen, if you don't mind sharing?" Sakusa wrings his hands together where they sit on top of the counter he's leaning against. 

Once again, Osamu and Akaashi look surprised before turning to each other. A silent look passes between the two of them, and Sakusa supposes they graduated to the level of relationship where full conversations can be had with a simple glance. 

"You should take this one, I think, Keiji," Osamu smiles lazily and leans forward on the counter, propping his head in his hands and letting his eyes flick between Akaashi and Sakusa. 

"Of course," Akaashi huffs an exasperated laugh.

"Yer better with words," Osamu explains his decision to put the burden on Akaashi.

"Thanks," Akaashi rolls his eyes fondly and leans over to ruffle Osamu's hair, and Osamu's grin morphs into a full beam. It's an uncomplicated gesture layered with closeness and tenderness. Sakusa must be privileged to see such an act between the couple because Akaashi often seems reserved in social settings, but perhaps the fact it's just the three of them in Osamu's apartment makes him loosen up and open to showing his emotions so freely.

"Again, only if you want to," Sakusa mutters, more to break the other two out of this trance they've slipped into with their locked eyes. 

Akaashi shakes his head and diverts his attention back to Sakusa. "It's no problem, and it's really not that complicated. We crossed paths enough, as I'm sure you saw, with Osamu usually being at MSBY events to either sell onigiri or just be there to support Atsumu. I was usually there to support Bokuto. There were enough times the two of us got to talking, usually over onigiri or volleyball, that we learned we liked speaking with each other and the company the other brought. I found myself looking forward to MSBY games and other events not only because I was excited about the team but to see Osamu. 

"I finally worked up my courage to ask him out after a game in Tokyo, but he beat me to it," Akaashi turns back to Osamu. "Are you sure you don't want to tell this part?"

Osamu chuckles. "Sure," he shrugs as if it's nothing. "Keiji had a real determined look on his face when he came to the Onigiri Miya stand at this one game—Jackals and Falcons—and I kinda panicked like he was goin' to tell me somethin' terrible, so I handed him this bag of onigiri I made 'specially for him."

"It was all my favorite fillings I had ever mentioned, even ones not on sale that day," Akaashi interjects. 

"Yep," Osamu nods. "He was flustered by it, which I'm happy to report, and when he said he didn't know how to thank me, I said he could with a date."

"And I said that I wouldn't just be going on a date with him as thanks but because I wanted to," Akaashi finishes the story.

"But ya weren't as put together when you said it," Osamu gets that self-satisfied smile Sakusa usually sees on Atsumu. So it's a genetic trait. 

"Yes, well, that's beside the point. Anyway," Akaashi addresses Sakusa once again. "Does that answer the question?"

"It does, thank you very much," Sakusa bows his head slightly in appreciation for the fact they were open to talking about their relationship with him.

"Now, can we ask you somethin', Sakusa-san?" Osamu puts forth. It's now Sakusa's turn to be taken aback, and even though he's fairly sure what the question will be about, he nods. "How did you know that you're in love with Ushiwaka-san?"

Sakusa sighs. "Ah, well..." he trails off.

"You don't have to answer if you're not comfortable with it," Akaashi assures him.

"No, it's fine. I've just never really spoken about this with anyone, which maybe that's weird or something I should have done, so this is good. This is fine," Sakusa tells himself more than he's telling Akaashi and Osamu. "I think I knew before I  _ really _ knew if that makes sense."

"It does," Osamu nods reassuringly.

Sakusa takes a deep breath. "I've known him since we were in middle school, and playing against Wakatoshi-kun was always so much more fun than any other games we had. In high school, we actually became friends at the Under 19 camp, and when we hung out at Nationals, well, it felt easy. It had never felt so effortless for me to talk to someone and be their friend. There was something exhilarating about it, and I really thought it was just having someone who got it, who understood me. And then he moved to Tokyo after joining the Adlers.

"We started to see each other more, spend time together. And, ah, well, it became physical between us during that time, too," Sakusa flushes to admit this fact but, well, he's already barrelling forward, so he might as well. "But we never made ourselves  _ official _ or anything. It was just fun. Simple and fun, and it was another way to spend time together, technically. But, things changed."

"They always do when sex is involved," Osamu comments sagely, and Sakusa feels slightly satisfied at the stern look Akaashi sends him. 

"I don't think it changed my feelings about Wakatoshi-kun, I think it just made them more apparent to myself. I like spending time with him, in and out of the bedroom. I like playing volleyball against him. I like dragging him to the occasional dinner with my family because I don't want to have to deal with it alone, but I realized seeing him fit in so easily with my parents and siblings and my siblings' partners and children were something I wanted permanently. I wanted everything we already had, but I want it forever."

Akaashi nods, and the corner of Osamu's lips rises slightly in a wistful way. 

"That's how it happens," Akaashi speaks gently. "Little things pile on top of each other, and you climb that hill slowly at an easy pace, but then you reach the top and look back at how far you've come and it dawns on you."

"And so, yer gonna cook a big meal for Ushijima and tell him how you feel," Osamu adds. 

"Yes," Sakusa nods. "I want to do something for him, and this seems like a good gesture."

"Well, I do support confessions of love that come with food," Akaashi grins. "I have some experience in that field."

Sakusa's shoulders feel lighter, and he laughs, thankful to have been able to speak openly to these two about Ushijima. "You definitely, do, and I must say, Akaashi-san, you're lucky to be treated to Osamu-san's cooking so regularly."

"Not as regular as I'd like," Akaashi's answering smile is edged with yearning.

"Hey, none of that now," Osamu steps around the counter and takes Akaashi's face in his hand to press a kiss to his cheek. "We're workin' on that. And anyway, it's time to get another recipe under Sakusa-san's belt."

Sakusa takes another deep breath. "Let's get cooking, then."

\---

Sakusa ends up learning that he's one of those people who hums while they cook. It never happens when he's at Osamu's apartment and he's being shown a new recipe; it exclusively happens when Sakusa is in the comfort of his own kitchen practicing the latest food he's learned to make. He does it unconsciously, dips into the act like he's getting into the zone during a game. Due to this lack of awareness, Sakusa doesn't realize he's humming when he swipes to answer the phone. His humming continues as he puts the phone to his ear and reaches for his wireless earbuds with the other hand. 

"Hello," Sakusa greets. 

"Hello, Kiyoomi-kun," Ushijima says back. "Were you humming?"

"No," Sakusa snaps back immediately and jams the earbuds into his ears. "I was just putting my earbuds in."

"It sounded quite a bit like humming, though," Ushijima apparently will not be letting up about the topic. "Was it a particular song?" His voice remains slightly flat as he speaks, but Sakusa knows this is his preferred method of teasing, acting a mix of curious yet somehow still tinted with aloofness. 

Sakusa sighs as he returns to the pan he was just about to add oil to before Ushijima called. "If you must know, there seem to be some tasks that while I do, I appear to start humming."

Ushijima makes a small huffing sound, not quite a laugh. "Such as? I know it is not when you clean. When you clean you have a look of concentration on your face and remain silent, full attention given to the matter at hand. It cannot be when you read because you tend to bite your bottom lip and worry it as you flip pages and your eyes scan down the words. The one time when you do make noises is when you touch yourself, though, but it's not humming," Ushijima finishes reciting a selection of his Sakusa Observations, and it makes Sakusa flush. Nothing about the low heat in the kitchen results in the warmth rising within him right now.

"Well," Sakusa clears his throat. "Thank you for sharing, Wakatoshi-kun, and you are correct, it is none of those things you listed." Sakusa knows the two are close—as close two people likely can be without putting an official label on it, which he hopes to change soon, but having such evidence presented to him on the level of attention Ushijima gives to Sakusa makes him feel seen, feel wanted. To know someone, and someone he's hopelessly in love with, took the time to record all these tiny details of Sakusa's mannerisms both flatters and frightens him. 

"If it is not any of those tasks, would you care to share what you're doing, Kiyoomi-kun?" Ushijima asks, and the lilt in his voice tells Sakusa that a small smirk currently sits comfortably across Ushijima's lips. Sakusa wishes he was there to kiss it.

"Cooking, if you must know," Sakusa admits with reluctance. 

"Cooking?" Ushijima repeats back, questioning. "I have rarely seen you cook and when you do, well, I must admit Kiyoomi-kun, I do not recall you humming."

Sakusa looks over the current state of his kitchen. After Osamu and Akaashi finished grilling him on his relationship with Ushijima, they had guided Sakusa through the process of making chicken katsudon. The dish was one that Sakusa had fond memories of with his mother making it on cold weekends for Sakusa and his older siblings, but it was never a dish he felt he would be able to replicate. 

But, as usual, Osamu guided Sakusa through it with no problem and then gave him the recipe with detailed instructions. Sakusa was spending this weekend night doing a run-through of the process. On his counter, a plate of only slightly burned chicken katsu sat complete, extra oil soaking into the paper towel beneath the pieces. Everything needed for the katsudon was neatly lined up next to the plate, ready for Sakusa to finish the process of making the meal. 

"You've only seen me make very basic dishes," Sakusa explains. "Things that don't take a great deal of concentration, but when I make something that takes a bit more thought, well, it turns out I hum."

"What are you making?" Ushijima asks, and Sakusa knows he walked right into that one.

"It's a surprise," Sakusa replies without thought.

Ushijima laughs. "A surprise? For who? Me? I can't see it or eat it, I'm in Tokyo, Kiyoomi-kun."

Sakusa huffs. "Maybe."

"I'm sorry to disturb your cooking, please go ahead, I'll let you go and get back to it," Ushijima returns to that soft timbre in his voice that tends to be his default when speaking with Sakusa. 

"No," Sakusa rushes out. "Don't, I want to talk to you."

"But I don't want to distract you," Ushijima tells him with genuine concern. 

"Um, well, what if I tell you what I'm doing?" Sakusa keeps saying things to Ushijima without thinking. 

"I thought I did not get to know what you're cooking."

"It's chicken katsudon."

"Oh."

"Surprise," Sakusa laughs hollowly. 

"Yes," Ushijima admits. "I did not know that you knew how to make it."

"I, uh, happened to come across an incredibly helpful recipe, so I'm giving it a try," Sakusa fibs only a small bit in his explanation.

"That's good, I'm glad you're expanding your cooking skills, Kiyoomi-kun. That will be very helpful for you," Ushijima's praise once again manages to make Sakusa feel warm for reasons not related to the temperature still radiating from his stove. "What do you have left to do?"

"I'm done with everything except the katsudon itself," Sakusa tells him. "I have everything prepared, so I just need to cook it."

"Okay, go on," Ushijima encourages him, and Sakusa does.

Sakusa gets the onion, dashi, mirin, soy sauce, sake, and sugar added to the pan and gently murmurs as he drops each ingredient in. Once the pan is covered, he talks about how the lid fills with condensation but he needs to watch for the pan to come to a boil. Ushijima asks about the katsu, and Sakusa reluctantly admits he might have burned it a little bit while frying it. 

"Don't eat the burned bits," Ushijima tells him, gravely serious. "They may seem innocent, but in a book about nutrition that Iwaizumi-kun recommended to me, it mentioned that sometimes burned parts of food may result in stomach illness."

"I won't eat them," Sakusa promises. "Thank you for your concern, Wakatoshi-kun."

"Of course, I care about you," Ushijima tells him like it's the most obvious thing in the world next to grass being green and Hinata Shouyou's violent orange hair. 

"Oh, well, thank you, Wakatoshi-kun," Sakusa mumbles.

"You do not need to thank me."

But then the ingredients in the pan come to a boil, saving Sakusa from any more need to deal with feelings, so he returns to talking through the process of adding the katsu and eggs to the pan and watching them cook quickly. Once everything finishes cooking, Sakusa continues to describe the process of getting rice from his rice cooker and plating the katusdon over it until he finally takes a seat at his small dining table with the steaming plate of food that, frankly, Sakusa must admit looks and smells divine. Each time Sakusa finishes cooking something, he's shocked that he made it himself.

"Thank you for talking to me about your cooking, Kiyoomi-kun," Ushijima finally speaks again when Sakusa concludes his narration. "I almost felt as though I was sitting on one of the bar stools in your apartment at the counter and watching you cook."

"Well, hopefully, you'll get to see me cook when you're here next," Sakusa teases.

"I would like that."

\---

"Well, my cooking kouhai, we only have this one lesson left," Osamu declares as they arrive at his kitchen.

"Please don't call me your kouhai," Sakusa grumbles, insulted to be referred to as such even if he is younger than Osamu.

"I'm just kiddin'," Osamu gives Sakusa one of those crinkle-eyed smiles that are charmingly effective to feel less annoyed with the man. The same look never works with Sakusa's agitation from Atsumu. “Anyway, today we’re goin’ to be working on what every good meal ends with.”

“The dishes?” Sakusa guesses, one eyebrow raised.

Osamu lets out a laugh, one that comes from deep within his chest. “I suppose that’s true, but no, dessert. I know some people aren’t usually up for it, especially you pro-athletes, but it’s a special occasion and it calls for a little somethin’ extra, don’t ya think, Sakusa-kun?”

“I suppose,” Sakusa muses. “What are you making?”

“We will be makin’ obanyaki,” Osamu declares and pulls out the familiar pan with the four round molds. Sakusa knows the street food as imagawayaki, found at street fairs and stalls around Tokyo. He enjoys it, sure, but what isn’t there to like about the light batter and bright bean paste in the middle? 

“But I don’t have a pan to make it,” Sakusa points out and gestures to the one in Osamu’s hand.

“Well, lucky for ya, yer senpai really cares and got ya one as a final class gift,” Osamu then points over to the dining table where a pan still in its packaging sits. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Sakusa shakes his head, feeling embarrassed at how much time and effort he’s taken from the businessman, and now on top of that he’s gone out of his way to help Sakusa yet again. 

Osamu brushes him off. “Nah, that’s what friends are for, right, Sakusa-kun?” 

The word feels strange. Friends. Sakusa spent so much of life preferring to stay to himself, other than occasionally allowing Komori to drag him around school and practice with the occasional social gathering. Ushijima’s presence in his life goes without saying. But since university and joining MSBY, well, Sakusa supposes he has allowed some more people in, starting with his teammates, even if he finds them atrocious at times, and now it appears Sakusa can add Osamu and probably even Akaashi to that list. 

“Yes, friends,” Sakusa agrees, and then he adds without thinking. “You and Akaashi-kun should come to dinner at my place sometime.”

“That confident in yer cooking already, are ya?” Osamu’s shit-eating grin returns, and Sakusa regrets it immediately. “Sounds good to me, it’ll be a double-date since I assume Ushiwaka will be there, too.”

“Well, I mean, maybe,” Sakusa stumbles over the words, already managing to forget that all of this has been working towards one purpose. 

“You have a plan, you’ll have food, and he’s in love with ya already anyway, it’ll be fine,” Osamu says it in that easy way of his, one shoulder rolling with a shrug and speaking as though he’s talking about a grocery list and not an event that will significantly change Sakusa’s life. 

“Thank you for your confidence, Osamu,” Sakusa replies stiffly, anxiety creeping on him as he realizes only a few days lie between him and Ushijima walking through his front door to see a full meal made by Sakusa’s hands laid out for him, a confession hidden in Sakusa’s heart for years waiting to break free.

“You will be fine, I’m tellin’ ya, and Keiji thinks so, too,” Osamu reassures him, and then he waves around the pan again. “Anyway, pay attention, it’s obanyaki time!”

Once Sakusa washes his hands, Osamu provides his usual precise instructions on what needs to be done for making the food. The batter comes first, which is easy as it’s simply dropping ingredients into a bowl in the correct order—eggs and sugar first then the milk and honey with the flour at the end. Osamu gives Sakusa a talk about relaxing glutens, whatever that means, while they both work at scooping red bean paste into their hands—Sakusa’s gloved—and molding them into perfect disks to sit in the fluffy center of the obanyaki.

Osamu preps the pan for cooking and details to Sakusa the proper methods of caring for the pan and how to coat the molds with oil using a bit of paper towel and chopsticks. When a second clean piece of paper towel goes to clean up the excess oil, Sakusa finds himself smiling, appreciating the ways in which cooking requires such neat meticulousness occasionally. 

“I also got ya one of these,” Osamu adds, pulling out a small food thermometer and twirling it between his fingers. “You need to make sure the temperature in the pan is correct.” This all suddenly feels like so much effort and Sakusa would rather sit down and order dessert from the bakery down the street from his apartment instead. He says so out loud, which earns him a  _ tsk _ from Osamu. “Don’t get scared now, Sakusa-kun! And look at that, the pan’s already at 175. Let’s get cookin’.”

Sakusa once again deflates at the precise timings that go into making the obanyaki. _ Wait three minutes then one minute and then the last two minutes, _ but at the end, Osamu turns out four perfect round and fluffy obanyaki that make Sakusa’s mouth water. The air in the kitchen holds a light sweetness, almost like powdered sugar drifts through, which adds to the desire to immediately pick up one of the hot snacks and take a bite. The intrigue in the dessert must be on Sakusa’s face because Osamu gives him a knowing look. 

“Wanna try?”

“Yes,” Sakusa answers immediately and takes a piece in a paper towel. Biting into the food feels like he’s transported back to a summer festival with Komori pulling him around between the stalls with the pocket money Sakusa’s mother gave him quickly disappearing as they indulge in snack after snack. The warmth in the kitchen briefly feels like the gentle heat of a summer night in Tokyo even though they’re inside an apartment in Osaka. 

“How is it?” Osamu asks.

“Good,” Sakusa replies with indifference even though he wants to gush a little bit about how this is perfect and there’s no way he can replicate this in his open floor plan modern kitchen. 

“I’ll take that as a high compliment from you,” Osamu teases. “Come on, it’s your turn.”

Sakusa goes to the pan with hesitance, but Osamu stands to the side and recites the steps for Sakusa to follow, and in the end, he has four, perhaps not perfect, but passable obanyaki. 

“They look too brown,” Sakusa comments. “Wakatoshi told me to not eat burnt food.”

“Sure, but these aren’t burnt, just a little too golden, maybe,” Osamu attempts to comfort Sakusa as he stares down at his attempted obanyaki. “Anyway, the real test is the taste. Let’s try.”

And when Sakusa bites into the obanyaki he made himself, well, they do taste a little too well-done, but they’re still fluffy inside and the red bean paste hits bright on his tongue as usual as well. Like his other endeavors so far, it’s not bad. He has room to improve, but this works. 

“See, Sakusa-kun,” Osamu leans back against the counter, his elbows settling down to prop himself up. “Yer gonna be just fine.”

Sakusa chooses to take another bite from his obanyaki rather than responding. Fuck, he hopes so.

\---

Sakusa can name a whole list of things he's impeccable at judging: where to spike the ball so it hits just inside the out-of-bounds lines of the opposing team's court, how many disposable masks he needs to pack for a trip, which part of Ushijima's body he needs to touch to make him come right away, and what atrocity Bokuto, Hinata, and Atsumu will commit at MSBY practice that day to ruin his life. Sakusa can also admit—for the most part—when he's judged something so incredibly poorly. Today, tragically, falls under the latter option as he stands in the middle of his modern and trendy kitchen with dozens of pans and bowls surrounding him as he attempts to cook his surprise love confession meal for Ushijima.

See, only ever practicing one dish at a time was where he went so horribly wrong. Sakusa never took into account that on the fated day he would need to make everything he'd learned from Osamu as well as the usual staples of rice, soup, and tamagoyaki. At first, everything was going splendidly. All the ingredients were prepped the day before after practice, and now he just needed to cook everything. 

Why does food cook at different temperatures at different times? Sakusa wants to send the angry message to Osamu, but he frankly cannot waste any precious seconds if he wants to finish making everything on time—even for sending scathing messages. For now, that sentiment will just have to sit in his heart. Somewhere along the way as his frazzled state grew, Sakusa took a single break to go to the bathroom and put some clips in his hair and pull on the headband he wore in the evening for his skincare routine in order to push his curls out of the way. 

Glancing at the clock, Sakusa attempts to calm himself as Ushijima always takes the same train every time he comes in from Tokyo. Like a well-oiled machine prone to staying set in his ways, much like Sakusa, to be honest, Ushijima favors taking the 2pm train that gets him to Osaka at 4:30pm, which gives him enough time to rest and refresh from the ride down before the two of them set out for whatever they planned to get up to that weekend. Sometimes that does mean they simply fall into Sakusa's bed immediately. Thanks to that set schedule, Sakusa has time. He's got this.

Just as Sakusa turns to pull out a pan to start frying the katsu, the doorbell to his apartment rings. He looks up and frowns at the door. There's no way it can be Ushijima already; it's too early. Ushijima won't be here for a few hours. Maybe it's a neighbor trying to talk to Sakusa about something or another? Who cares, Sakusa sure doesn't care about whatever they want to tell him. He's got food to cook for the love of his life—and, wow, yes he did refer to Ushijima as such just now. Electing to simply ignore whoever is at the door, Sakusa turns back to chaos in front of him and takes stock of everything that needs to be done still.

The doorbell rings again, and this time there's knocking with it as well. So this neighbor happens to be incredibly persistent. How atrocious. 

"Please go away," Sakusa whispers more as a plea to the universe than to whoever is at the door. The bottle of oil starts to tip in Sakusa's hand so he can start heating it for the katsu when the bell rings once more accompanied by even more knocking, this time slightly more hurried. 

"Fine!" Sakusa cries, snatching the towel resting on his shoulder to wipe his hands hastily and then forcefully tossing it down onto the countertop. 

Sakusa wrenches the door open, ready to start a tirade about how he's simply too busy with whatever the neighbor has to say, but he's struck speechless by the sight in front of him. It's Ushijima. Casual clothes of a simple t-shirt and jeans with an athletic jacket thrown on top, his duffel bag slung over a shoulder. "Wakatoshi-kun," Sakusa gasps his name, lacking the brain function to say anything else.

"Kiyoomi-kun, I was worried when you didn't answer," Ushijima visibly loosens up, and Sakusa feels an ache in his chest at the idea of Ushijima growing frantic outside of his apartment thinking the worst. "May I come in? I hope this isn't an intrusion."

"You're never an intrusion," Sakusa shakes his head and steps back so Ushijima can enter. "I'm just surprised, you didn't tell me you'd be getting here early."

"It has been a while since we saw each other, and I thought this would be a nice surprise," Ushijima explains simply. And it's true, it  _ has _ been a while and it  _ is _ a surprise, it's just that Sakusa had a surprise of his own that's about to be ruined. 

"It is," Sakusa softens, and once Ushijima's shoes are off and the bag dropped to the ground, he reaches out and loosely grips one of Ushijima's wrists. "I'm happy to see you."

Ushijima looks down at Sakusa's hand on him, and his eyebrows rise a fraction. Sakusa usually waits for Ushijima to take a shower or clean up in some way from the train ride before he initiates physical contact, so he takes the touch as an allowance, an open invitation. Ushijima takes a step towards Sakusa and reaches out with his free hand to gently rest it at Sakusa's neck before trailing it up to cup his cheek. "You look cute when you have all this on for your skincare regimen," Ushijima brushes his thumb across Sakusa's cheek. The mixture of Ushijima knowing Sakusa so well, recognizing what he has on, and the tender touch to his face makes Sakusa's knees weak.

"Thank you," Sakusa lets himself be pulled closer by Ushijima's wide hand against his face, and Sakusa's hand migrates from Ushijima's wrist to his hip. 

"May I kiss you?" Ushijima asks.

"You don't have to ask," Sakusa breathes out. 

There are numerous advantages to being nearly the same height as your lover, and one of them is the fact that they simply need to turn their heads slightly in order to close the distance between them and for their lips to meet. None of that leaning up or down nonsense, though Sakusa is sure that has its merits as well. But Sakusa likes this. Likes that Ushijima is as tall as him but broader than him, capable of covering his body completely with those wide shoulders. Sakusa likes that it means he can push and be pushed onto the bed or whatever is their preferred surface at the moment.

It starts as a simple brush of their lips, and Sakusa's eyes flutter a little bit before Ushijima presses his mouth firmly to Sakusa's. Letting his lips fall open slightly, Sakusa indulges in the way Ushijima starts to leave short, quick kisses that keep Sakusa's head reeling for new reasons as he tries to get more out of the other man. Just when Ushijima gives a bite that's quickly alleviated by a lick across Sakusa's lower lips, he breaks away and doesn't come back to Sakusa's mouth. 

Sakusa's eyes open slowly, and he sees Ushijima frowning at something over his shoulder. Oh, the kitchen.

"Are you cooking?" Ushijima tilts his head as he poses the question. 

Well, it seems he's about to come clean about the whole failed operation, then. "Yes," Sakusa did not intend this to be his first confession to Ushijima of the day, but, well, he was a fool to try and have a plan for this probably. He detaches himself from Ushijima's arms and once again wraps his fingers around the other's firm wrist and tugs. "Follow me."

When they arrive at the kitchen and Ushijima surveys the scene, Sakusa doesn't know why he feels so apprehensive as to whatever might be the response he receives. After stepping away from cooking, Sakusa feels like the kitchen looks even worse now. "When did you learn all this?" Ushijima asks.

Sakusa sighs. "Well, I wanted to get better at cooking and so the two of us could spend some time at the apartment when you're here this weekend, I thought making a fully home-cooked meal would be a good surprise. See, I had a surprise of my own," Sakusa laughs hollowly. "But it's been a disaster so far."

"Is this why you were cooking while we were on the phone the other day?" Ushijima immediately deduces part of what had been going on.

"Yes, I was trying to practice making katsudon, but I didn't think about the fact that I would be making so many dishes at once and the type of planning that takes, so everything is all over the place. Osamu never said anything about—" Sakusa rambles until Ushijima cuts him off. 

"Miya Osamu?"

"Yes, yes, I had to ask him for cooking lessons, but that's beside the point, I'm starting to take back my assumption he was less horrendous than Atsumu," Sakusa blissfully returns to his rant against now what is both the Miyas. 

"You took lessons from Osamu? I didn't know he offered them," Ushijima comments. 

Sakusa turns to look at Ushijima again finally. "He doesn't, I had to ask for it as a favor from Atsumu to ask Osamu about it, and then it was a big favor from Osamu himself, honestly—oh, we have to invite him and Akaashi-kun over for dinner at some point as thanks."

"Akaashi?"

"Yes, Akaashi Keiji, he's—"

"Kiyoomi," Ushijima's voice raises slightly but still holds that deep rumble to it that can destroy Sakusa at the right time. At this moment, it makes him snap his mouth shut.

"You took cooking lessons so you could cook for me?" Ushijima poses the question, his eyebrows furrowed with not confusion or anger but rather something akin to bewilderment. 

It was close to the truth, leaving out one small (maybe big) detail. "Yes," Sakusa admits.

"And I ruined the surprise by arriving early," Ushijima presses.

"I wouldn't say you ruined it, no, I guess you just found out about it a little earlier than I had intended," Sakusa shrugs it off. 

"I'm sorry, Kiyoomi," Ushijima turns so his body fully faces Sakusa and gives a small bow of his head. "You had planned all this, and I did not think to tell you that I would be here early." The tips of Ushijima's ears are turning pink, which fascinates Sakusa as he reaches out to touch one tenderly. When his fingertip makes contact with the shell of Ushijima's ear, the other man shivers. 

"Don't apologize, there's nothing to be sorry for," Sakusa laughs lightly. "We just had conflicting surprises." 

Ushijima looks back at Sakusa's face. "I suppose we did," and the smile that gradually forms across his face makes Sakusa step forward and give a kiss to his cheek. "Will you let me help you, then?" Ushijima asks eagerly. "Tell me what you need to be done so I can assist in finishing cooking."

"You want to help?" Sakusa raises his eyebrows.

"Of course," Ushijima nods. "I think it will be good for us to cook together, too."

They've never done that before. It's usually one of them in the morning in the kitchen making a quick breakfast for them to share. The idea of cooking in his kitchen with Ushijima is so crushingly domestic it makes something yearning form in Sakusa's chest. He wants that. He wants that forever.

"Okay," Sakusa nods. "Okay, come on." Sakusa keeps his grip on Ushijima's wrist as he leads him. Ushijima stops on the way to take off his jacket and hang it on the back of a dining chair, and he washes his hands.

And so, they cook. Sakusa delegates tasks, telling Ushijima what needs to be done next, and Ushijima readily gets to work. The turmoil Sakusa felt bashing against him like a stormy sea suddenly calms with Ushijima now at his side, clearing the clouds and bringing in the sun. When Ushijima starts slicing onions for the katsudon, Sakusa notices his eyes start to water and he blinks rapidly to fight the tears that the onions cause. Sakusa swiftly goes to his side with a paper towel and dabs at Ushijima’s eyes without thought to help ease the discomfort. 

“Kiyoomi, you don’t have to,” Ushijima attempts to make Sakusa let up on his efforts, but he refuses to back down.

“It’s no good if you get tears into the food,” he scoffs and gives another swipe at the area below Ushijima’s left eye. Usually when they’re this close and Sakusa is looking at Ushijima’s eyes, they’re making out on the couch or on a bed, so he cannot suppress the feeling of  _ want  _ when he sees each eyelash of Ushijma’s with such minimal space between them. They’re slightly clumped and darker than usual from the tears. 

“Okay,” Ushijima nods. “I cannot add more salt.”

Sakusa pulls his hand back, done with wiping away the onion-caused tears and does a double-take before he realizes the joke Ushijima just made. “That was so lame, Wakatoshi,” Sakusa smacks him playfully with the paper towel still in his hand and ducks his head to hide his smile, not wanting to reveal his amusement to Ushijima. 

“You smiled,” Ushijima carefully puts an arm around Sakusa before he can get too far away and pulls him back so they’re chest-to-chest. “It was funny.”

“Maybe,” Sakusa begrudgingly shrugs and refuses to look Ushijima in the eyes otherwise he might honestly break out into laughter. 

“It was,” his voice declares it as a fact, and before Sakusa can argue back, there’s a kiss on his cheek. Ushijima’s mouth pulls away slightly from his face. “Thank you for drying my tears, Kiyoomi-kun,” he whispers, and Sakusa can feel each word as breath on his skin before Ushijima moves away and lets go of him.

“Always,” Sakusa replies, clearing his throat and walking to the trashcan to rid himself of Ushijima’s dried tears. It occurs to Sakusa that he has never seen Ushijima cry, and he kind of wants to, but in a positive context. Will he ever?

After that, they return to cooking, which goes fairly straightforward. Sakusa thanks the universe for letting the one thing he finished before Ushijima’s arrival be the hayashi rice so that can at least remain a bit of a surprise. With the chicken katsudon done, Sakusa moves them on to working on the grilled salmon and miso ginger pork. 

They stand by side, Sakusa watching over the thin pork as it sizzles in the pan and the scent of ginger takes over the air. Next to him, Ushijima carefully maintains vigilance over the salmon in the grill pan transforming into its cooked shade of pink. It’s comfortable. It feels normal. It’s the most natural thing in the world to Sakusa for the two of them to be standing with shoulders brushing in his kitchen as they cook a meal with probably too much food for themselves. The domesticity of it lulls Sakusa into a haze where he imagines this is every day for the two of them. Maybe it can be. 

Sakusa starts to hum softly, nothing in particular, just something tuneless that keeps him focused on the food. He doesn’t see Ushijima’s smile.

The meal comes together before them, and they start to move everything to serving dishes and then to the dining table. There's one pot still closed, and while Ushijima busies himself with scooping rice into bowls for them, Sakusa lifts the lid and steam pours out. The smell of beef, onions, and mushrooms fills the air, which makes Ushijima turn his head and peer at what Sakusa just unveiled.

"Is that hayashi rice?" he asks.

"Yes," Sakusa nods and pulls a large serving dish close so he can carefully ladle in the pieces of meat and vegetable along with the thick sauce. 

"That is my favorite," Ushijima comments and returns to his rice duty.

"I know," Sakusa breezily replies. 

Ushijima's movements stop. "Did you ask Osamu-san to teach you to make it?"

"I did."

A pause.

"Thank you for learning how to make my favorite dish, Kiyoomi," Ushijima, being ever the gentleman of course, offers his gratitude, which honestly pleases Sakusa deeply, but he's not going to admit it.

"Well, I also like it, so it was useful to learn," Sakusa shrugs, still refusing to look over at Ushijima. 

With two bowls of rice in hand, Ushijima walks over to Sakusa. "Still, thank you," and then he has the audacity to drop a kiss to Sakusa's forehead right below the hairline, lips grazing his curls poking free of the headband as he pulls away. 

All Sakusa can do is scoff as he finishes transferring the food to the dish and carries it over to the table. "Is this everything?"

"I believe so," Ushijima nods and surveys the small feast laid out in front of them. "Kiyoomi, I am very impressed you took the initiative to learn all these recipes. Cooking for yourself at home is vital for a balanced diet. I know you often prefer to purchase takeout or konbini meals, but this will greatly help your performance with some more healthy dishes also added into your skills."

Sakusa's cheeks redden. "Thank you, Wakatoshi-kun. But, I, um, well, I have something else to admit, actually?"

"What is it?" Ushijima's head whips to settle his eyes back on Sakusa, who is now wringing his hands as nerves overtake his body over what he's about to do. 

"Nothing bad, but, well, I had another reason to learn how to cook all this," he waves a hand at the table. "There's a reason I wanted to learn how to make hayashi rice."

"What is it?" 

"Wakatoshi, I know we haven't really spoken about this, we just kind of always..." Sakusa trails off and waves his hands around, suddenly struggling to catch the words in his brain that he wants his mouth to say. "What I'm saying is, I think our arrangement as friends who occasionally share the bed together is no longer what I want."

"You don't?" Ushijima frowns. 

"No, wait, no, I mean, yes, no, I don't want that anymore because I want more," Sakusa continues to stumble through like a newborn fawn. "I want to cook with you and for you, and I want to do it for a very long time."

Instead of replying, Ushijima takes steps closer to Sakusa until he's standing in front of him. "May I touch you?" 

"Yes," Sakusa breathes out.

Ushijima first takes hold of Sakusa's wrist between his long and thick fingers before letting go and trailing down to intertwine their fingers instead. "I believe I know what you're trying to say, but I would like to hear you say it."

Sakusa groans. "Why are you like this?"

"Like what?"

"So good," Sakusa sighs in frustration. "So understanding, so helpful, so ready to always be at my side to encourage me and push me to be better both on and off the volleyball court? You made me fall in love with the sport first, and then you made me fall in love with you." Sakusa hammers in the point by jabbing Ushijima in the chest with a finger with his free hand.

"You are in love with me?"

"Yes, and I hope you are, too, otherwise I spent time with a Miya of my free volition for nothing," Sakusa whines. 

Ushijima utters a soft  _ heh _ before he speaks. "Of course I am, Kiyoomi," Ushijima speaks softly. "How could I not be?"

Sakusa realizes at some point his eyes drifted down to stare at their clasped hand rather than at the other ace in front of him, but now hearing Ushijima's confession makes Sakusa snap his head back up. "You do?" his voice wavers. 

"Yes," Ushijima plainly affirms. He lifts his free hand to play with the Sakusa's hair above his twin moles, lightly grazing the locks with his fingers. "I have for a while, and I am glad you feel the same."

"Oh," Sakusa finds his knowledge of any vocabulary has decided to depart his brain. 

"What would you like to do now?" Ushijima asks.

Ushijima and Sakusa have spent almost two additional hours now finishing preparing the food that Sakusa started. They're both tired and likely in need of a shower or bath—preferably together. Sakusa still has his hair routine headband and pins in his hair, and Ushijima hasn't had the chance to change since he arrived at Sakusa's apartment. They have a full meal and more laid out on the table, and Sakusa hasn't even made the obanyaki yet, only prepared the batter and filling as he was going to make them fresh once they finished with the main dishes. 

But on top of that Sakusa feels like he could run a thousand laps around the MSBY practice gym with the pure adrenaline he has from not only telling Ushijima how he feels but hearing those words said back to him. It was silly for him to ever be concerned that Ushijima didn't feel the same way, but he couldn't help and worry that their arrangement had made him assume things. 

No, Ushijima Wakatoshi loves him, and they'll be able to make a mess in his kitchen cooking again, as a couple.

"I want you," Sakusa admits, gripping Ushijima's shirt and pulling on the fabric, scrunching it tight. "Now."

"And the food?"

"We can eat later."

And with that answer, Ushijima wastes no time in bringing their mouths together in a kiss filled with a different kind of hunger. Sakusa would let Ushijima devour him. He probably already has. But Ushijima slows their barely controlled desperation down. Sometimes Ushijima does this, where he slides a hand to the back of Sakusa's neck and squeezes lightly, which always makes Sakusa's mouth part in a gasp and his body go weak. His grip on Ushijima's shirt tightens wrinkling and stretching the fabric in a way that's likely to last. Ushijima's tongue swipes into Sakusa's mouth and runs across the roof of his mouth, which manages to light each nerve in Sakusa on fire. 

"Bedroom," Ushijima murmurs, pulling back from the kiss. He tries to take a step back, and Sakusa's grasp on his shirt makes Sakusa trail after him, almost falling over. Ushijima smirks, and he clutches onto Sakusa's arm that's holding him, wrapping those fingers around and squeezing. "Come on, Kiyoomi."

Ushijima has been here enough, has led Sakusa to his own bedroom enough, that he maneuvers them walking backward through the apartment so the two don't have to break apart until they step into the room. Continuing his backward path, Ushijima finally reaches the bed, and he sits down, pulling Sakusa down onto his lap. Sakusa winds his arms around Ushijima's neck and slides his fingers through the short hair at the back of his head. He must have recently had it cut because it feels light and soft, the latter is probably also thanks to the shampoo that Sakusa gifted him the last time he was in Tokyo. 

Their eyes find each other again, and the utter devotion in Ushijima's face drowns Sakusa. He's looking at Sakusa with lips slightly parted as he traces down Sakusa's face with his gaze. It's then that Sakusa remembers the headband and pins. 

"Oh my god, Wakatoshi," Sakusa slaps his hands against Ushijima's hard chest, earning a small  _ hmph _ from the other man. "You made me forget about this!" Sakusa cries as he pulls off the headband and pins, sticking them together and climbing off Ushijima's lap, who makes a distressed sound. "I'll be back."

Sakusa deposits his skincare-hair-taming items in the bathroom drawer they usually reside in, and he makes the mistake of glancing up at the mirror. His reflection sports a blush on his cheeks and lips already bitten red by Ushijima's mouth. For the most part, his hair remains in an impeccably styled shape, but there are some flyaway curls that could either be the doing of frenzied cooking or Ushijima's demanding hands. 

Taking a deep breath, Sakusa rips his attention away from his reflection and goes back to where Ushijima waits for him on the bed. Much to Sakusa's amusement, Ushijima has moved up on the bed and laid down against the pillows with his eyes closed. Sakusa gingerly shuffles over and crawls onto the bed. One of Ushijima's eyes opens at the shift in weight on the bed and he angles his head to watch Sakusa's approach. Once Sakusa slides back onto Ushijima, straddling his lap, Ushijima places his hands on Sakusa's hips. Sakusa sighs in satisfaction of having Ushijima beneath him like this, even if they are still clothed, he knows they won't be for much longer. 

Without any preamble, Sakusa leans down to resume kissing Ushijima, and delights in the way Ushijima's hands glide from his hips to tease the hem of his shirt before going ahead and tenderly touching the skin of Sakusa's torso. Ushijima's hands are warm, they always are, and Sakusa tends to run a little cold. But still, the touch makes Sakusa shiver and gasp into Ushijima's mouth. 

Eventually, roaming hands divest both of them of their shirts, and Sakusa revels in the feeling of finally being able to be this close to Ushijima and not having to speak through the phone. 

It occurs to Sakusa that nothing feels different as they continue to pull at each other's clothes and toss them to the side. Perhaps Sakusa assumed there would be some type of monumental shift, the tectonic plates beneath the Earth would shift with the knowledge that Ushijima and Sakusa were no longer simply fucking, as Komori had so crudely put it, but had now confessed their love and were in a proper relationship. They had claimed devotion to each other forever. But, nothing changes as Sakusa makes his way down Ushijima's freshly naked body, leaving kisses and licks along the dips and planes of his muscles that Sakusa knows oh so well. Nothing changes because the entire time they were giving themselves to each other in bed, they were already giving their unwavering adoration as well. 

Nothing changes because they've been in love the whole time.

Sakusa sighs as he reaches the sharp line of Ushijima's hipbone and how kissing along it leads directly to where he's growing hard. Ushijima's abdominal muscles tense and ripple beautifully as Sakusa's lips brush closer and closer to where Ushijima is simply aching for him, and he decides that teasing can be left for later and takes hold of Ushijima. 

"Wakatoshi," Sakusa whispers his name and looks up to where Schweiden's ace has an arm thrown across his eyes, mouth slightly gaping and gasping before anything has truly begun. "You're so wound up," Sakusa observes and then gives a small lick to the head and relishes the way it makes Ushijima's entire body shudder. "Do you want more?"

"Yes," Ushijima gasps out immediately.

"Then watch," Sakusa instructs him, and Ushijima complies right away. His hand moves fast to take hold of Sakusa's hair instead, but in a light hold that's simply encouraging and not demanding of movement. His dark eyes burn as they settle on the scene of Sakusa between his legs. 

"Good," Sakusa hums, and he runs his tongue from base to tip and back down, repeating the motion several times with an occasional wet kiss placed along the way, the smacking sound of his mouth sounding obscene in the general quiet of the room. He lives high up enough in his building the sounds of Osaka below them are often not heard, which means he can clearly hear as Ushijima whimpers Sakusa's given name. That small sound makes Sakusa come alive, and he increases his efforts, taking Ushijima into his mouth and working up and down at a quick pace, giving him no time to breathe as he's immediately hit with the onslaught of being inside Sakusa's wet and hot mouth. 

Ushijima eventually gives a tug to Sakusa's hair, and he decides to not listen because he has plans now for Ushijima. Ideas that formed as he looked over the way Ushijima's body somehow looks tighter and more defined since the last time they were together. Instead, Sakusa makes a satisfied sound, pleased at the man laid out for him. 

"Fuck," Ushijima mutters, and Sakusa moans at the word. When he looks back up, Ushijima holds his gaze. The hand in his hair drifts down and settles on his jaw instead, swiping at the momentary bulge in Sakusa's cheek. The affectionate gesture makes Sakusa's eyes flutter closed, and he pulls off to give Ushijma a brief break and time for himself to catch his breath. It's a short respite, though, and he gets his mouth back on Ushijima and takes him until the thick length hits the back of his throat and another one of those small  _ fuck _ s falls from Ushijima's red-bitten lips. 

This time, Sakusa doesn't stop until he feels Ushijima grow harder in his mouth and come with a wordless cry that's followed by a moan of  _ Kiyoomi.  _

When Sakusa climbs Ushijima's body back up so they're level, Ushijima wastes no time immediately pulling him in for a kiss, licking inside his mouth to taste himself and search underneath for the taste of Sakusa as well. With a gasp, Ushijima splits apart from him, a thin trail of saliva connects and breaks between them as Ushijima falls back onto the pillows behind him. Sakusa takes the moment to run his hands up and down Ushijima's chest as it heaves for the man to catch his breath. It's a marvel to Sakusa that he can cause such a response, that he can devastate Ushijima into this panting mess just from having him in Sakusa's mouth. 

Ushijima's wide hands come to rest on Sakusa's hips where they span close to the width of his waist. It makes Sakusa shiver. When Ushijima regains his breath, he finally speaks. "You are the best person I know," Ushijima tells Sakusa.

The statement makes Sakusa snort. "No, I'm not."

"You are," Ushijima nods. "You learned to make hayashi rice for me." 

"I guess I did," Sakusa gives a one-shouldered shrug with a cheeky grin. 

"I want to do something for you," Ushijima's hands start trailing further up Sakusa's body and drifting to his ass. 

"Hmm, are you going to buy me a year's worth of umeboshi or something?" Sakusa jokes and gives a playful slap to Ushijima's chest, which makes the other man laugh.

"No, but I can if you want it," Ushijima's mouth quirks into a mischievous grin, and then his hands tighten on Sakusa's hips before flipping them so Sakusa now lies beneath Ushijima on the bed. "I can have deliveries scheduled every week so you have a new supply, and when I kiss you, you always have the taste of umeboshi on your tongue."

"That's not necessary," Sakusa's hands settle around Ushijima's neck lightly, thumbs resting along his sharp jaw. 

"I guess I'll have to do something else for you, then, because you have done so much for me," Ushijima declares, and then he climbs off of Sakusa, who is about to protest and ask where the  _ fuck _ does Ushijima think he's going when he watches the other man open the drawer of the bedside table and pull out the condoms and lube. 

"Will you?" Sakusa asks with a leer as the items are dropped by Ushijima's legs as he settles over Sakusa's waist, his ass brushing over where Sakusa is now hard and leaking for any form of attention.

"Yes," Ushijima nods and picks the lube back up. "I'll take care of you."

"You will?" Sakusa's chest tightens hearing those words. 

"Of course," Ushijima declares as he gets his fingers coated and then raises himself up slightly on his knees. "And you will take care of me, you already have." Sakusa knows he is not just referring to the blowjob he just gave Ushijima. 

"Okay," Sakusa agrees faintly and watches Ushijima push one of his fingers into himself. His chest is already slightly flushed, and Sakusa is convinced he watches the pink become brighter and spread in front of his eyes. 

Ushijima works himself on one finger, slowly moving both his arm and his legs. The motion is slight and slow, but it still makes the muscles on Ushijima's thighs tense and tremble. Sakusa can't help but watch the way he can see one of the muscles twitching and how Ushijima is also getting hard again, slowly filling out his considerable length already.

"You're very beautiful," Ushijima says with a slight hitch of his breath as another finger works into him. "I have told you that before, but I want you to know."

Sakusa has always felt clumsy with compliments, never sure how to respond to them so he usually brushes them off and gives a cold glare. WIth Ushijima, though, they hit different. The words break down the walls Sakusa constructed around himself long ago when he chose to remain slightly dismissive to others. Ushijima's compliments take Sakusa apart brick by brick and build him back up in one fell swoop, leaving him even more flustered. 

"Oh," Sakusa gives his inefficient reply because he wants to say so much more back to Ushijima about how the other man's beauty devastates him, how he wants to cut himself on the edge of Ushijima's jaw, how he wants to crawl into those arms and never leave, and how he would also gladly suffocate between those thighs. They're wild varying emotions that Sakusa can never get into sufficient words, so he hopes that through his actions Ushijima can understand what he means.

So, Sakusa leans forward, grabs the bottle that Ushijima tossed to the side and coats one of his fingers and pushes it in next to the two that are still working Ushijima open. He kisses Ushijima as he does so and drinks down the tiny gasps that fall from his lips as the two of them work together to open up Ushijima to take Sakusa inside him. Sakusa's head spins feeling the other's fingers inside Ushijima's tight heat, and to think that he'll be sinking down onto Sakusa shortly makes his brain almost shut down, but not enough to cease his movements into Ushijima, pressing until he gets the moan he was searching for and then keeps pressing until Ushijima gasps out of the kiss and declares it's enough.

They resituate themselves after Sakusa puts on the condom so Ushijima can sit comfortably in Sakusa's lap while Sakusa leans back against the pillow and headboard, and then, finally, Ushijima raises himself up and positions Sakusa, holding him just right so it'll take a small movement of his down to start the press in.

"Are you ready?" Sakusa still checks in with Ushijima, one of his hands on Ushijima's hip and the other settles on the side of his torso where he can feel ribs underneath. 

"Yes," Ushijima nods and lowers himself, slowly dropping down onto Sakusa and taking him inside. Sakusa holds his breath at the feeling, slamming his eyes closed to calm himself from coming on the spot at the feeling of being surrounded by Ushijima—his boyfriend. 

Eventually, Ushijima fully seats himself on Sakusa, and his head drops forward as he breathes and adjusts to the feeling of being full. Sakusa leans forward and starts dropping kisses down his face and neck, and each contact makes Ushijima shiver. 

"Move when you want," Sakusa tells him, and Ushijima nods in acknowledgment. He sits back a little and grabs one of Sakusa's hands and presses it against his abdomen with his covering it. They're not quite holding hands. With that, Ushijima starts to move, raising and lowering himself on Sakusa at a slow pace to start. 

As he gets used to the feeling, he speeds up and starts to properly ride Sakusa. Their hands fall away from where they were resting on Ushijima and instead they both scramble to touch each other or themselves wherever they can to heighten all sensation. 

"Kiyoomi," Ushijima groans when Sakusa uses one arm to get leverage against the bed and starts to meet with thrusts up. "Yeah."

"Wakatoshi, you feel good," Sakusa mumbles. "Always so good."

"That's you," Ushijima gasps. "You're always so good."

"Fuck," Sakusa can't think, just focus on the way Ushijima feels around him and on him, how Ushijima's eyes are boring into him with their half-lidded gaze. His bangs are starting to cling to his forehead with the sweat of exertion, and his lips are permanently parted to let out sharp gasps and one-word cries. "You look so good," Sakusa tells him because he deserves to know.

"So do you," Ushijima once again does the infuriating thing of complimenting him.

"Stop talking," Sakusa declares and kisses him instead, licking into his mouth with fervor trying to draw out even more sounds from Ushijima that aren't words of admiration that Sakusa doesn't know if he'll ever be able to handle. 

They shift again, and now Ushijima groans deeply, and Sakusa knows this is the position and angle they need to stay in to chase their ends. "Right there," Ushijima confirms and manages to speed up, those strong thighs that flex at a moment's notice to receive a ball and are now working to fuck himself on Sakusa, and that's one of the most overwhelming thoughts that could make Sakusa come earlier than planned.

Instead, he gets his hand on Ushijima and starts working him in time with his thrusts up. "Let go when you want," Sakusa whispers into his mouth. "You deserve it now."

"You first," Ushijima shakes his head. "I said I'm taking care of you."

"And I'm taking care of you," Sakusa declares, and then he doesn't leave any room for argument by speeding up his movements and meeting Ushijima with his thrusts with even more force. And it's ridiculous, but Sakusa wants to see the way Ushijima's face breaks apart when he comes. The way it's the one time he relinquishes the control he keeps over his body. 

Ushijima comes for the second time with Sakusa's name on his lips, and a stutter in his breath. His body jerks in Sakusa's hand as he spills himself, and Sakusa relishes in the sight of every muscle tightening for a few seconds before he finally drops, spent. But then he doesn't say anything and immediately returns to riding Sakusa, working himself on Sakusa until now he feels like he's seconds away from falling apart.

Sakusa gets a hand around Ushijima's neck to bring their mouths together for a spectacularly uncoordinated and sloppy kiss that is as coordinated as Sakusa feels right now. 

"Kiyoomi," Ushijima whispers lowly, and that's enough to make Sakusa go over the edge, coming inside Ushijima who groans. 

They spend a few more moments kissing with Ushijima sitting on Sakusa's lap with Sakusa still inside him before they finally pull apart and collapse down onto the bed. Sakusa rids himself of the condom in the trash, trying to not think about it, and then turns to curl into Ushijima's side. 

"The food is probably cold," Sakusa comments, eyes drifting closed. 

Ushijima gets an arm around Sakusa. "You are the one who said we should eat later."

"Yes, well, I really wanted to fuck and didn't think of the repercussions on the food," Sakusa pouts. 

Ushijima's laugh is a soft rumble. "That is okay, we can reheat it all. I sometimes feel certain food gets even better when microwaved."

"Of course you do," Sakusa huffs. "So."

"So?"

"We love each other."

"Yes, Kiyoomi, we do."

"And we are in a relationship now," Sakusa makes sure he's not in some hazy dream still.

"Yes we are, though, I rather feel like we might have already been and didn't know it," Ushijima comments. "Tendou, Ohira, and Semi all thought we were as did Kageyama and Hoshiumi. Hoshiumi told me he would beat me up if I didn't ask you out properly."

"Why didn't you listen to him, he could have saved us so much time," Sakusa snickers at the mental image of those small fists with hard spikes pummelling Ushijima. 

"He said this to me on Tuesday," Ushijima replies, and that makes Sakusa pause before he sits up to look at his now boyfriend.

"Did you come here early to ask me out under the threat of Hoshiumi?" Sakusa questions.

"Perhaps, but also I myself felt it was time to tell you how I felt, but it seems you beat me," Ushijima reaches out and brushes away Sakusa's hair that's stuck to his forehead. 

"Yeah, well, get used to it," Sakusa huffs and this time he lies down so his head is cradled on Ushijima's firm chest. 

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I'm going to beat you on the court in the next game we play against each other, too," Sakusa sniffs with an air of confidence.

"Okay," Ushijima replies simply.

"Okay?" 

"Yes, okay. I like playing with you and against you. I like being with you."

Sakusa huffs and sits up again so he can once again kiss Ushijima because he really loves him just a ridiculous amount.

Later, they'll leave the bed and shower before reheating their abandoned small feast while sitting close and talking about their weeks. Later, they'll cook together again, and again, and again.

**Author's Note:**

> on [twitter](https://twitter.com/pushclouds), just yelling


End file.
